Star Trek Deep Space Nine: Alien Invasion
by Unicron73
Summary: A Deep Space Nine Aliens Crossover! The crew must deal with the arrival of an Alien Queen on the station. Please Read and Review!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The air around him was thick and heavy. From behind he could hear the guttural cries of the beasts as they pursued him down the corridor. They were so close, he could almost feel their rank breath upon the skin of his neck.

Worf turned a corner, heading for the waiting airlock at the other end. He preferred to stand and fight like a warrior instead of running away from his prey, but he had a mission to accomplish. He couldn't let the invasion of _Deep Space Nine_ spread to other inhabited worlds. Tomorrow was a better day to die; today he had a war to win.

Worf reached the end of the corridor and hit the controls that would open the airlock. An eternity passed as the gigantic door slid back. Behind him, the shrieks and cries of the hunters grew louder, the scrape of claws against steel ringing in the empty air. Worf stepped into the chamber and hit the switch to close the door. As the Cardassian monstrosity slid back into place, he leaned against the wall, taking in a breath. The pain in his chest grew wore, making every breath an endurance in pain. He pressed a hand against his breastbone and the pain subsided. He cleared his head and then stepped into the waiting runabout.

Worf lifted the runabout out of its docking bay just as the first tremors rocked the station. From the viewport, he could see the fires erupting across the inner docking ring. Worf turned his head, not wanting to look at what he was leaving behind. The runabout picked up speed as the first real explosions shook the station. Fire engulfed the habitat ring and a moment later, Ops was ripped from the stations' main section as the core went critical. The runabout tore through space, missing the debris from the station as it was torn from girders and ejected into the blackness around it. A moment later, all too quickly, the fires died and all that was left was emptiness.

Worf settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. A moment later he threw back his head and howled, a desolate sound that filled the empty cabin with grief and despair. His lungs ached from the exertion, and the howl broke down into a series of hacking coughs as the pain in his chest returned. Something stirred within, something that was not of this world. Worf placed a hand against the stirring, steeling himself against the pain it brought, and smiled. The battle may have been lost, but the war was far from over. And his friends' deaths would not go unavenged.

Worf leaned over and spat a wad of bloodstained spittle onto the flooring. The pain subsided a little, enough that he could take a breath without agony. He paused a moment longer, thinking, and then plotted a course into the runabouts' computer. When that was finished he sat in the dark, alone, with only he thoughts to keep him company.

"Computer," he said after a time, his voice dry and raspy. "Begin recording." When the computer beeped its acknowledgement, he continued. "This is Lieutenant Commander Worf, Strategic Operations Officer of _Deep Space Nine._" He paused again, gathering his thoughts. "I regret to inform whoever is listening to this that the station and all its inhabitants have been destroyed. I alone am the only survivor, and I will bring honor to their deaths by telling their story." He closed his eyes, letting the memories surface, letting them wash over his consciousness until he bathed in them. "It all began four days ago, with the arrival of a Vulcan science vessel, completely off course and badly damaged..."


	2. Chapter One

**Part One:**

**The Beginning of the End**

Chapter One

"Blasted Cardassian technology," Chief O'Brien muttered to himself. He had been working in lower pylon three ever since the Andorian freight vessel had almost ripped out the docking clamps trying to leave the station. Apparently, the clamps had frozen and wouldn't release.

He had always known this day would come. When the Federation had taken command of the station after the Cardassian withdrawal, they almost had to rebuild it from scratch. In order to cut down on the transition time, they had to splice Starfleet technology with what the Cardassians had left behind. And after five years of working peacefully together, the system finally decided to reject its Cardassian counterpart and shut down.

O'Brien hunted around for his laser torch. He had been in the lower pylon for the better part of the day, and it wasn't getting any better. He had managed to isolate the problem, but the solution wasn't any easier.

"Rom," he called over his shoulder. He had been opposed to the Ferengi joining his Engineering Team, but Rom had proven himself to be a valuable asset, both to the station and to O'Brien himself.

"Rom," he called a second time, a little louder. A moment later the Ferengi stuck his head around the corner, peering at O'Brien with those beady little eyes of his.

"You called, Chief?" he asked softly.

"Could you get me my laser torch from my tool kit?" O'Brien asked, trying not to sound annoyed at the little troll. Even though he could grate on your nerves, Rom meant well most of the time.

"Certainly," he answered and slipped back around the corner. O'Brien chuckled to himself. A few seconds later, Rom returned, laser torch in hand.

"Here you go, Chief," he said, handing the torch to O'Brien, a huge grin on his face. The Ferengi always felt good about himself after accomplishing a task, no matter how trivial the task might be.

"Thank you Rom," O'Brien said and bent over the exposed panel he had been working on. Just then, his comm badge beeped, breaking the silence of the empty space.

"Sisko to O'Brien," the deep voice called over the unit.

"Go ahead, Captain," O'Brien answered back. He gingerly placed the panel on the floor, wiping his hands on his trousers.

"How's it going, Chief?" Sisko asked.

"Well, I've isolated the problem," O'Brien answered. "But unfortunately, in order to correct it, I'll have to rebuild the entire module from scratch. The entire pylon will be out of commission for awhile, I'm afraid."

"How long do you think you'll need for repairs?"

O'Brien shook his head, even though Sisko couldn't see the action. "Maybe three days, maybe longer. It depends on mow many parts I can replicate, and how many I'll have to salvage from other systems."

"Chief, in case you've forgotten, the delegation from Parada will be here in three days. And as you know, the Paradin always travel in packs. We'll need all the pylons in operation order before then."

"I'll do my best," O'Brien said, and closed the channel. He shook his head. He knew the Captain always expected the best from him, and he's never let him down before. He turned to Rom, who'd stood silently by during the exchange. "All right, you heard the Captain," he said, turning back to the console. "Let's get cracking."

"Aye, aye Chief," Rom said, giving O'Brien a mock salute before returning to his work. O'Brien chuckled, and then proceeded to delve into the guts of the machine.

-----

Everything was going well in Ops, or as well as could be expected. Aside from the slight problem with the docking clamps, there wasn't anything major to report. Everything was quiet from the Cardassian border, and there hadn't been an incident with the Dominion for weeks. Aside from the Paradin delegation that was scheduled to dock at _Deep Space Nine_ in a couple of days, the immediate horizon seemed uneventful.

Captain Sisko leaned back in his chair, rolling his baseball in one hand and staring out the viewport at the surrounding stars. The constant traffic on the station only served to make him appreciate days like these even more. It had been weeks since he had a chance to relax, to simply enjoy himself and the people he had the pleasure of being stationed with. It was days like these that he truly enjoyed his command.

A beep disturbed the solitude of the room, and Sisko swiveled in his chair, placing the baseball back into the holder on the end of his desk. "Sisko here," he called into the open comlink.

"Kira here, Captain," the voice of his first officer echoed loudly in the room. "We've just picked up an incoming shuttle on our long-range sensors. It's coming in pretty fast."

"I'll be right there. Major," Sisko answered and closed the channel. He got up from his chair, and after a moment, left the sanctity of his office and stepped out into the command center of the station.

He walked over to Dax's console, peering over her shoulder as she worked. "What have we got, old man?" Sisko asked, sizing up the situation.

"The shuttle's coming in at full impulse," Dax answered.

"Can you identify it?" Sisko asked.

After a moment, Kira answered. "It's a Vulcan science vessel. And from the amount of plasma leakage, it's damaged pretty badly."

"Is there anyone on board?" Sisko asked.

"I can't get a good reading," Dax answered from her station. "The radiation level inside the cabin is too high. From what I can determine, there's one life-sign, but it's very weak."

"Let's get a tractor beam on it, and tow it in," Sisko said, and then slapped the commbadge on his uniform. "Sisko to Bashir," he called down to the Infirmary.

"Bashir here, Captain," the voice of the doctor called back.

"Prepare to receive a patient, Doctor, suffering from severe radiation sickness," Sisko said and turned to Dax. "Can you beam the patient to Sickbay?" he asked.

Dax shook her head. "I won't be able to get a transporter lock through all the plasma leakage," she answered.

Sisko grunted, and turned back to the viewer. "Doctor, we have a change of plans," he called into the still open commlink. "Meet us at airlock two. We'll have to get the patient out ourselves."

"Understood," Bashir called, and terminated the link.

He turned around to his Klingon operations officer, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "Mr. Worf, you're with me," he said and the two of them left Ops, heading for the docking ring.

-----

The medical team had already arrived by the time Sisko and Worf reached the airlock. Bashir was there, medkit in hand, two of his junior nurses waiting behind him in the corridor.

"All right people, time's short," Sisko called out. He stepped up to the door and pressed the button. They had to wait a moment for the airlock to pressurize, and then the massive door slid back. Sisko nodded and Worf entered, the medical team right behind him.

Bashir had handed masks to his everyone, and they put them on before opening the inner door. Bashir hit the button, and a moment later it slid back, opening onto a vision of hell.

Waves of plasma roiled out of the shuttle into the airlock, kicking the air purifiers on to try and ventilate the fumes out of the airlock. Bashir squinted his eyes against the onslaught, and after a moment, bolted through the open door into the shuttle. The two nurses followed, while Sisko and Worf waited on the outside, staying out of the doctors' way.

A few minutes later Bashir emerged from the shuttle, followed by his nurses. An unconscious Vulcan was being carried between them, his face and arms severely burned. They carried him into the corridor, and gently placed him on the deck plating. Bashir pulled off his mask and opened his medkit.

"Is he going to make it Doctor?" Sisko asked over the fallen figure. Bashir pulled out a hypospray and placed it against the Vulcan's neck.

"We have to get him to Sickbay immediately," Bashir said. He reached for his combadge to call the transporter room when the Vulcan gasped in surprise, grabbing Bashir's arm by the wrist and pulling him down.

Bashir looked down and the Vulcan leaned up, his mouth moving, trying to muster up the strength to speak. Bashir leaned closer, pressing his ear next to the Vulcan's mouth.

"Please...' the Vulcan rasped, his throat thick with inhaled plasma. "Please...kill..me..."

Bashir looked down at the Vulcan, astonished, and saw something he never expected to see on a Vulcan's face: stark terror. The pressure on his wrist increased, and Bashir pulled back, looking at his nurses' for assistance.

"Please..." the Vulcan insisted, his voice getting stronger. "I mustn't...be allowed...to live."

"Doctor?" Sisko asked from behind, the concern evident in his voice.

"He must be delirious," Bashir asked, trying to break free from the Vulcan's grasp. When it was obvious he wouldn't be able to, he looked at one of his nurses. "Give this man a sedative until we can get him to the Infirmary," he ordered.

The nurse nodded and pulled out a hypospray from his own medkit. He placed it against the Vulcan's neck and pressed the button. Bashir looked at the Vulcan and watched the horror fill the man's eyes as the sedative took hold. "Please..."he begged one last time and then his hand dropped from Bashir's wrist as unconsciousness overtook him.

Bashir slapped his commbadge. "Bashir to transporter room. Two to beam to the Infirmary."

Sisko nodded and stepped back from them as the transporter whisked them away. Sisko stood in the silent corridor for a moment, and then turned to his operations officer. "As soon as its safe, I want you to take a team into that shuttle and go over every square inch of it. I want to know exactly what happened."

"Understood," Worf said and Sisko left, heading back in the direction of Ops, the unspoken question still lingering in his mind. _What exactly could have happened that would have terrified a Vulcan? _Perhaps that wan an incident that Sisko didn't want to understand.


	3. Chapter two

Chapter Two

O'Brien rummaged through the remains of the shuttle's cockpit, trying to determine what had caused the warp engines to lose plasma. He had been called away from his work in the lower pylon just a few moments ago. He didn't want to leave Rom alone to do the work himself, but he also didn't want the Ferengi to think that Miles didn't trust him with the job. In the end, he sent two of his engineers down there to help Rom, just in case.

He had met a frustrated Worf at the entrance to the shuttle. The Klingon was adept at many things, but he didn't have much patience with tedious affairs. O'Brien had relieved him of his duty, promising to contact him as soon as he had discovered anything. That apparently satisfied the Klingon and he left, attending to his other matters. It suited O'Brien just as well. He would rather have been left alone with a job like this than to be tripping over other officers, especially Klingon ones.

Now he here sat, in the middle of what had once been an organized cockpit, trying to get at the computer's main memory core. He almost wished he had let Worf stay. Klingons didn't have much patience, but they certainly had enough strength to move bulkheads that had been violently torn from their moorings.

He reached his arm into the exposed panel in the flooring, grasping for the memory chip in the bottom of the panel. His fingers gripped the chip and after a slight tug, removed it from its socket. He put the chip in the box with his tools and stood up. Now all he needed to do was to upload the information into the stations' computers, and he would have a record of the ships' final moments.

O'Brien stepped out of the cockpit, almost tripping over the debris that littered the shuttlecraft's floor. He decided that he ought to take a look at the engine itself before he left to see if he could analyze the problem. He started to make his way to the back of the craft when his foot caught the edge of something and he fell face first onto the hard surface.

O'Brien cursed at his clumsiness. He looked over at what he had tripped on. A jagged piece of metal stuck up from the flooring, a thin grayish-green coating of liquid dripping from its tip. O'Brien stared at the hole in the floor and noticed that there was another hole in the inner flooring directly below the upper one. That opening was also covered with the viscous liquid. Whatever it was had burned straight through both layers of duranium.

O'Brien ran his tricorder over the opening. After a few seconds the tricorder beeped at him. Apparently it was as unable to identify the liquid as O'Brien was.

He scanned the flooring and noticed that there were several other holes of various sizes pitting the surface of the duranium. He scanned each one, trying to compile as much information as he could. Each hole in the flooring had an exact duplicate beneath it in the lower layer. And each one was ringed with that same unidentifiable film.

After his scans were complete, O'Brien made his way into the back of the shuttle, where the warp engines were. He pushed through the mounds of debris that cluttered the compartment, and finally made it into the engine room. He took in a quick breath as he stared at the condition of the engine.

"What the hell?" he muttered, staring at what had once been a working warp core. He ran his tricorder over every square inch of the room, not wanting to overlook anything. What that was complete, O'Brien quickly tapped his combadge. "O'Brien to Worf," he called, his voice a bit shaky.

"Worf here," the Klingon answered. Even over the comm his voice was still thunderous in the room.

"You'd better come back down here and have a look at this," O'Brien called, hoping he sounded calm. "And bring the Captain with you."

"Understood, Chief," Worf answered. O'Brien stared at the engines, waiting in the stillness. And even though Miles knew he was the only one on board, he still couldn't help the shivers that ran down his spine.

-----

"Melted?" Sisko asked, staring at the plasma tanks next to the warp core. There were two of them, one on either side of the engine, and both of them had gaping holes in center, the jagged edges pointing at them like accusing fingers. And on these edges, the same viscous liquid clung, coating the tanks with their alien filth.

"That's the best I can determine," O'Brien said. He had already gone over this in his mind a hundred times. "As unbelievable as it sounds, whatever this liquid is melted straight through the tanks."

"That still does not explain the Vulcan's terror," Worf said. He certainly had a knack for pointing out the obvious.

Sisko, however, had a more disturbing thought. "Where did this liquid come from?" he asked out loud. And to himself: _Is the being or entity that secreted it still here?_

"I'm not sure where it came from," O'Brien said, shaking his head. "The tricorder wasn't able to identify it. But whatever it is, it's nothing to take lightly. If it can do this to duranium, imagine what would happen to flesh."

"Thank you Chief," Sisko said. "I'll keep that in mind." He stared around him a moment longer, taking it all in, and then turned back to his officers.

"Chief, take the memory chip from the shuttle and download it into the station's computer. I want to know what happened on this shuttle and I want to know in a hurry. I don't know what we're dealing with here, but whatever it is doesn't give me a very comforting feeling." He turned to Worf. "See if you can take a sample of to Dr. Bashir. Maybe he'll have a better time analyzing it than we did."

He stepped passed his officers into the main area of the shuttle. O'Brien and Worf followed him to the airlock. "It may not be a bad idea to post a security team at the airlock until we can figure this out," Sisko said and Worf nodded. Sisko took one last look and stepped out of the shuttle. Leaving O'Brien and Worf behind to follow out his orders. Something about this whole situation disturbed him, more than he cared to admit. But whatever it was, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"How is the patient Doctor?" Sisko asked, entering the infirmary. Bashir looked up from his console, where he had been studiously working on the results from the Vulcan's last medical exam.

"Stable, for the moment," Bashir answered. "He suffered some tissue damage from the inhaled plasma, but he doesn't seem to have acquired any permanent damage. I have him sedated so his body can recover from the injuries."

Sisko looked at the doctor and frowned. He had grown used to Bashir's little idiosyncrasies over the past five years, and he knew when something was bothering the Doctor. "Is there something else, Doctor?" he prodded, hoping to bring it out.

Bashir looked up at him, surprised at the Captain's insight. "Oh it's probably nothing," he said, trying to shrug it off. When he saw that Sisko wasn't going to let it go that easily, he continued. "The computer picked up some anomalous readings that it hasn't been able to identify," he answered.

"Something serious?" Sisko asked. This was the second instance where the computer came across something it wasn't familiar with. He wondered if the two were connected in some way.

"I'm not sure," Bashir said, turning back to his readings. "I don't think so, but I'll have to run further tests to clarify it."

Sisko nodded. "Worf will be bringing you a sample of something we've found on the Vulcan's shuttle," he said. "I was hoping you could give us a hand in identifying it."

"I'll give it my best," Bashir said.

"I know you will, Doctor," Sisko said. "I'll be in my office if you need me." Bashir nodded at him and then turned back to his work. Sisko stayed a moment longer and then left, heading back to Ops, leaving the Doctor to his own ministrations.

It had been an hour since Worf had left with the sample for Sickbay, and Hernandez still wasn't finished. The Klingon had ordered him to go over the entire computer core twice, in case the Chief had missed something in his first perusal. Hernandez had thought the idea pointless, but had wisely kept his opinion to himself. After all, he knew better than to upset a Klingon, especially one that was his superior officer.

So he had set to work immediately after Worf had left, and had been diligently working ever since. The only trouble was, he hadn't turned up a single thing in the hour that he had been busy. Apparently the Chief had been as thorough as ever.

"I swear," he muttered to himself, a habit he had picked up working on the night shift. "IF there's anything worse than a Klingon officer..." He trailed off. A light skittering sound echoed from the empty shuttle behind him. He pulled his head out from under the console and stared towards the back of the ship. He couldn't detect anything within the ship. He shrugged and turned back to the console before him.

"Not only have I begun talking to myself, but I've also started hearing things." He reached into his toolkit for a laser torch and stuck his head back beneath the console. He was just about to remove another panel when he heard the sound again. It was a sharp sound, like needles on metal. He slid out from between the two chairs in the cockpit and stood up, turning to face the empty corridor behind him.

"Hello?" he called out to the darkness, hoping that someone would answer. "Is anyone there?" He started forward, laser torch in hand. The sound came again, closer this time, coming down the corridor. He held the torch in front of him like a weapon. He knew it wouldn't be much help, but he still felt safer holding it.

He started down the corridor, one tentative step at a time. The corridor was empty, his only company the shadows that clung to the walls like a second skin. He called out again, and again was greeted with silence. He stopped in the corridor and stared around, listening to the sounds around him.

After a moment he chuckled to himself. Working the night shift had left him a little jittery. Satisfied that he was alone in the shuttle, he turned back towards the cockpit. He was eager to finish his work so he could take his readings and get the hell out of there. He had taken a few steps down the corridor before he finally noticed the shadow moving on the wall next to him. Or at least he thought it was shadow. He turned to face the wall and the shadow detached itself from it, towering its blackness over him like a disease. He took a few steps back, almost dropping the laser torch in the process. The blackness advanced on him, its fluid movements paralyzing him. He tried to scream for help, but his throat had locked, frozen in terror. With a sheer force of will, he held the laser torch in front of him, its red glow bathing the corridor in an eerie light. And in that light, Hernandez looked square upon a visage from Hell, and promptly lost his mind.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"I've managed to de-code the logs from the shuttle's computer," O'Brien said, addressing the senior staff seated around the table. On the monitor before them, the passive face of the Vulcan captain stared back, frozen in time. "There were large portions of the logs' that were so corrupted the computer couldn't decipher them. After all that work, I was only able to salvage the last few minutes' of the captains' final log entry."

"Proceed them," Sisko said, intently watching the screen before him. O'Brien stood up and touched a button on the monitor. The image sprang to life, and the silent Vulcan began to speak.

"...is Captain Sutok, of the ...science vessel, _Traven_...we are experiencing some difficulty with...warp core. To anyone within range...this communication...request assistance..."

The screen went white with static, and O'Brien adjusted a few controls on the side of the monitor. The image reappeared and the scarred face that greeted them was almost unrecognizable as the Vulcan captain. The image cleared, and the log resumed.

"...this is the...vessel, _Traven_...my companion…is dead. We are infected...unknown species...to any vessel within range, do not...rescue. Repeat, do not attempt a rescue. I am plotting coordinates...this solar systems' sun..." There was movement fro behind the Vulcan, and he turned to face the sound. A black image crossed in front of the Vulcan, blocking the recording, and a moment later a blood-chilling scream filled the cabin of the Vulcan's shuttle. A few moments later, the screen went blank. The crew sat back in their seats, stunned and appalled by what they just saw.

It was Dax who finally broke the silence. "What could have terrified a Vulcan so much that he would send his own shuttle into a sun?"

"I have gone over the flight path in the shuttle as well," O'Brien spoke up. "The _Traven _was headed into a gas giant in the Omicron cluster. There was some damage to the navigation console, and instead of burning up in the sun, the shuttle simply drifted off-course."

"Is there any record of where the Vulcan had been?" Sisko asked.

"If there was, it was destroyed along with most of the recorder logs," O'Brien said.

"How can we be certain that whatever attacked the Vulcans on that shuttle is gone?" Odo asked, silent up until now.

"Chief O'Brien and I have gone over every inch of that shuttle," Worf spoke up. "If anything still existed, we would have discovered it."

"I'd still feel a lot better if I could take a couple of security officers and go over that shuttle again. Personally." Odo said.

Sisko nodded. He knew the constable's penchant for detailed work, and he knew that Odo wouldn't rest until he was personally assured of the station's security. "All right, Constable, if it will make you feel better."

"Have your men discovered anything else, Chief?" Sisko asked.

"Lieutenant Hernandez was supposed to check in an hour ago with a report," O'Brien said, shaking his head. "I haven't heard from him yet. Probably got so caught up with his work that he lost track of time."

"That is not like him," Worf said. "However, if there had been any trouble the security guards would have notified us."

Sisko sighed. "I think we've done all we can do for the moment. Until the Vulcan regains consciousness and can answer some questions, I suggest we get back to our normal routines."

"He should be back on his feet by tomorrow," Bashir mentioned from across the table. "You can question him then."

"Good. Until we receive some answers, nobody except the constable is allowed near the shuttle. Dismissed."

The senior staff piled out of the room single file. Sisko stopped O'Brien before he could sneak out the door. "How's the work going on the lower pylon, Chief?"

"I've left Rom with two of my engineers down there, working on the problem. They should have it ready on schedule, Captain."

"Good. Let's just hope that everything goes smoothly until then."

-----

It watched silently from the shadows, and waited. It needed to find a place to settle, a quiet place to hide its children until the proper time. Time was becoming short, and it was growing ever more restless. It had been searching for just such a place when it had stumbled upon these three. It clung to the ceiling like a thick shadow, the lights from their tools mesmerizing the creature. It knew, instinctively, that the place it yearned for was a little farther down this corridor. Its' hunger grew as it watched, ropy strands of saliva dripping from its' massive jaws. It waited a moment longer, feeling the burn and growl in the pit of its' being, and then, with a swiftness that belied its great bulk, moved in for the kill.

-----

The computer chimed in Sisko's office, startling him out of his reverie. He shook his head to clear it, and then touched the button on his console.

"Sisko here," he called.

"This is Odo. We're down in the shuttle bay." The constable sounded sterner then usual, if that was possible. "There's no sign of Hernandez or the security detachment you sent down here."

"Are you sure?" Sisko asked, knowing it was a stupid question the moment he asked it.

"Quite sure, Captain," Odo answered. Then, after a moment, "The computer can't locate them either. I've already checked."

Sisko sat back. It wasn't like Starfleet personnel to turn up missing for no reason. A shudder ran down Sisko's spine. For what reason he wasn't sure, but he hadn't felt right since that shuttle docked.

"Keep searching, Constable," Sisko asked. "But make sure you work in teams. I don't want anyone left alone down there."

"Understood," Odo said.

Sisko sat back in his chair, gazing out at nowhere. He was just about to gather his thoughts when his communicator beeped again.

"Go ahead," Sisko said wearily into the comm.

"Captain, this is Bashir." The doctor's voice sounded hurried, almost frantic.

"Is there something wrong, Doctor?" Sisko asked, only half wanting to hear the answer.

There was a slight pause over the channel. "I think you'd better come down here and see for yourself," the Doctor responded after a moments' pause. "Quickly."

"I'm on my way," Sisko said. He closed the channel and left his office, crossing Ops to the turbo lift. The feelings of unease grew steadily worse by the moment. How much worse could the situation get, he wondered to himself, and then realized that he didn't really want an answer to that question.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

"And you have no idea how this happened?" Sisko asked, startled.

The Doctor shook his head. On the biobed before them, the Vulcan lay deceased, a gaping cavity in the center of his chest staring up at them. The Doctor had discovered him when he was finishing his nightly routine.

"I called you as soon as I discovered him," the doctor said. "I have yet to find out the cause."

Sisko mulled it over. "Is it possible we have a murderer loose on the station?" he asked, thinking about the three missing officers from the shuttlebay.

"That's just it," Bashir said, moving closer to the body. He pointed to the fringes of the cavity. "In any puncture, there is a significant distinction between an exit wound and an entrance wound. Whatever happened to this Vulcan, whatever tore his chest apart, did so from the inside."

Sisko frowned. "Are you suggesting his chest simply exploded?"

Bashir shook his head. "My scans picked up some anomalous readings from the Vulcan, readings the computer hasn't been able to identify. After this turn of events, I cab guess what those readings were from." The doctor stepped closer to the Vulcan, as if studying the wound. "Most parasitical organisms live within their hosts, taking in sustenance. Once grown, they exit the body to start their new life apart from their host. In this case, the birth of the parasite was obviously a very violent and fatal one."

Sisko mulled over Bashir's words. "So you think the Vulcan was infected with an alien parasite."

"Without any concrete evidence to the contrary, that would be my best medical explanation," Bashir said.

"If that's true," Sisko said, staring at the doctor with a grave look on his face, "then what happened to the parasite?"

"There's something else as well," Bashir said, walking over to one of his medical displays. On the monitor was a series of DNA models. "I was able to at least partially identify that sample you sent me from the shuttlebay."

"What did you find?" Sisko asked.

"I was able to take a micro cellular sample from the edges' of the Vulcan's wounds," Bashir said, pointing to one of the DNA strands on the monitor. "This other one," he said, pointing to another model on the screen, "was taken from the substance found on the shuttle." He turned to face Sisko, letting the full weight of what he was saying sink in. "The two samples are identical. Whatever came out of the Vulcan is the same kind of organism that secreted the liquid that melted through the shuttles' warp core."

Sisko stared at the two models before him. This creature, or at least something like it, was responsible for destroying the Vulcan's' warp engine. And now this same type of organism was loose on the station. Sisko stared hard at the monitors, carefully planning his next course of action.

"I want a sample of this DNA downloaded into the tricorder of every security officer we have," Sisko said after a moments' pause. "I want this creature found as quickly and as quietly as we can."

"I'll get it done immediately, Captain," Bashir said. Sisko nodded, and then turned and left the Doctor to his ministrations.

-----

Rom noticed two things almost immediately. The first was that he was someplace dark, and cramped, and very, very warm. The second, and perhaps the most disturbing of all, was that his entire body was encased in some type of tight-fitting cocoon. Ropy strands of some kind of organic material welded his head to the wall he was affixed against, and it took all the strength his little Ferengi body could muster just to turn his head to see his surroundings.

_I'm not sure, but I think I'm in the stations' reactor core._ In the distance he could hear the steady thrum of machinery but the air had a murky, smoke-like quality to it, and he wasn't able to see more than a few inches in front of him. A few inches, however, was all he needed to know he was trouble. Big trouble.

Something shifted on his right. Rom looked over and saw Ensign Carson, one of the engineers Chief O'Brien had sent to help him. He was semi-conscious, strapped to the wall by the same type of cocoon that Rom was. He turned his head to the left and saw Lieutenant Mackery, also bound and gagged by that strange, organic material.

Another noise brought his attention to the front. It was a wet, pulsating sound, and it was only after he squinted his already strained eyes that he noticed the three, egg-shaped pods on the floor before them. The middle pod, the one directly in front of him, quivered again, rippling from top to bottom, and then suddenly its top opened, the sides folding back upon itself like the thick, fleshy petals of some exotic flower. Rom strained forward, as far as his bonds would allow him, trying to see what was inside the pod. Something quivered at the top, something that looked like a wet, throbbing hand. Then the pod shuddered again and the thing flung itself out of its enclosure at Rom, its bony fingers digging into the soft flesh of Rom's skull. Something hard and unforgiving was thrust through Rom's mouth and down his gullet, and as the finger's tightened and his entire face was covered by that bony organic parasite, his movements ceased and his consciousness fled.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

"Constable!" The voice echoed to him from across the Promenade. "Constable, wait up!"

Odo turned around, the permanent scowl on his face growing deeper at the sight of the Ferengi. Quark ran through the throng of people, the lights from the Promenade glinting off his green and silver checked tunic. He stopped when he reached the waiting Constable, his breath coming out in sharp, hitching gasps.

"I'm busy, Quark," Odo said, peering down at the smaller man. Quark looked up at the shape shifter, a pained expression on his rodent-like features.

"This is important," Quark squealed around pointy teeth. "I need to report a missing person."

"I already have a growing list of missing people, thank you. What happened, lost another customer in one of your holosuites again?" Odo asked.

"No, it's my brother, Rom. He hasn't shown up for his shift." Quark grabbed Odo by the arm. "He's three minutes late and it's costing me money."

"Three minutes is hardly an emergency, Quark," Odo growled.

"It is to me," Quark snapped back. "I have well paying customers walking out. Now I demand-" he began but never finished his sentence. Odo's hand shot out and grabbed the Ferengi by the throat.

"I have bigger things to worry about than your missing brother, who's probably just fallen asleep on the job again and is lying curled up in some conduit. Now if you'll excuse me-" Odo began but the rest of the sentence never made it. There was a slight rumble along the floor of the Promenade, and then suddenly all the lights went out.

-----

"Benjamin, check this out."

Sisko walked down and stood behind Dax's station. "What have you got for me, old man?" he asked, laying a hand across the back of Dax's chair.

"I've downloaded the DNA sample from Doctor Bashir into the computer and routed it through the station's sensor net. The station's computers are now able to identify these life forms. With any luck, we should be able to pinpoint exactly where these creatures are."

"Good work, Dax," Sisko said. He was about to ask her to bring up the sensor scans when the lights around Ops flickered once and then blinked out. A moment later the consoles blinked back to life, and the lights slowly came back up around the room.

"Report," Sisko said, watching the readings flood across Dax's screen. The Trill's fingers flew over the console, trying to keep up with the scroll of information pouring over the screen.

"One of the power transfer conduits for the reactor core just went off-line," Dax said. Sisko frowned. There were six fusion chambers in the station's reactor core. Each chamber was connected to a transfer conduit that fed power directly into the station's EPS grid. When Starfleet took the station over from the Cardassians, the Corps of Engineers went over the reactor with a fine-tooth comb, and found two of the chambers structurally unsound for operation. As a result, the station ran on only four of the six fusion chambers. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but when one went off-line it caused a dangerous power drain on the system.

"We've still got three conduits working, but there was a system wide disruption when the power transferred over," Dax said. "I'll get a maintenance crew on it immediately."

"Belay that," Sisko said. He reached over and patted Dax on the shoulder. "I'll go down there myself. If my station's going to fall apart, I need to be the one doing something about it."

Sisko turned to the Klingon standing off to the side. "Mr. Worf, you're with me. Dax, have Odo meet us on the Promenade." Jadzia nodded as Sisko and Worf headed onto the turbolift and out of Ops.

-----

The Queen settled into her place against the side of the wall. The shards of the broken structure behind her scrapped across her exoskeleton but she paid it no mind. The pain was insignificant. She had found a warm, dark place in which to hide her children; soon now, her offspring would be born and the cycle would begin. Already she had found three hosts suitable for her offspring and more would follow. Sudden pain gripped her midsection, a wracking spasm that ran from her abdomen to her thorax, but that also was insignificant. It just meant that more of her children were ready to be born. One of the hosts along the far wall howled in agony. It was the rodent-like one with the sharp teeth; the other two had long since expired. She was amazed at the hosts' resilience; most creatures wouldn't survive this long. Still, it didn't much matter. Soon the hosts' would be dead and her children would once again be free. And then the hunt could begin.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

"Blasted Rom," O'Brien said, bypassing another circuit in the machinery. He was shoulder deep in the guts of lower pylon three, trying to figure out why the docking clamps refused to work. He'd thought he'd had it figure out, but then Rom went missing, and that damned Vulcan shuttle had arrived, and now it looked like there was a problem brewing in the reactor core. And of course Sisko would want everything squared away within the day. O'Brien muttered under his breath. Without Rom's help, everything was bound to take twice as long.

A scuffle issued from the conduit behind him. O'Brien turned, banging his head on the side of the wall as he did. "Rom," he called, listening to see if the sound would repeat itself. "Rom, is that you?"

A second scuffle followed the first. O'Brien whipped his head around, almost cracking it against the duraplast again. This one had come from behind him, from somewhere inside the housing that held the docking clamps for lower pylon three. O'Brien peered inside, the glow from the wall circuitry turning the skin on his face a ghostly blue. "What the hell?" he said, staring into the bowels of the machine. Then something flew out of the conduit at him, something tan and large and very, very bony, something that affixed itself to O'Brien's face, and everything suddenly went dark.

-----

They were halfway down the corridor that led to the lift that would take them to the reactor core when they heard the scream.

Ensign Landrew froze, gripping the phaser rifle hard against his chest. His eyes scanned the darkened corridor ahead, his Adam's apple bobbing visible inside his slender throat.

"Are you all right, Ensign?" Odo asked from behind him.

"Yes, sir," Landrew said, shaking his head. He tightened his grip on the rifle and took a step forward. "I'll be fine, sir."

"We need to keep moving," Worf said. "There is no reason to stand around waiting for something to come."

"Let's move, people," Sisko said, ushering them forward. "Worf's right. We need to find out what's going on with this station, and we need to do it fast."

The four of them continued down the corridor. Landrew took point, sweeping the corridor from left to right as he maneuvered. Sisko gripped his own phaser in front of him; Worf, on the left side of the Captain, did the same.

Up ahead, the corridor ended in a cross-section. In front of them was the lift that would take them down to the core section. Maintenance tunnels ran off to the left and right, leading to consoles that monitored everything on the station, from the EPS grid to the gravitational units. The group stopped at the center, peering into the darkness around them.

Sisko turned to his Klingon officer. Worf stood motionless in the corridor. He looked like he was trying to pierce the darkness with just a gaze. Sisko moved next to him, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sidling up next to the large Klingon. Work cocked his head, and then turned to Sisko.

"There is something here," he said, his voice as low as a Klingon's could get. "Something...waiting."

Landrew moved closer to the turbolift, swinging the barrel of his rifle around in a semi-arc. He pressed the button for the lift and stepped back as the door whooshed open. He stuck his head a quarter of the way into the lift, gazing through the gloom into the oppressive emptiness beyond.

"Everything's clear here, Captain," he said, turning around to face the others. Landrew took one step forward and then suddenly he was hoisted into the air, jet-black, razor tipped spear jetting through the center of his chest. The phaser rifle clattered from his spastic fingers, ringing off the metal flooring along the corridor.

"Ensign!" Sisko yelled, bringing his own phaser to pistol, but there didn't seem to be anything to aim for. A gout of blood spurted from Landrews' lips, a deep crimson that matched the color of his uniform, and suddenly he was torn in half, his torso and legs flying apart at different angles along the corridor. A hissing shriek filled the confines of the turbolift as a creature dropped down from the top of the shaft.

It was the vilest thing Sisko had ever seen. It was roughly two meters tall, bony extrusions covering most of its midnight black body. Its arms were long, almost human-like, and its hind legs were lean and muscled, thick, corded tendons designed to hold up the creature's massive bulk. Its tail flickered back and forth behind it, cutting through the air like a medieval spear, but the strangest thing about the creature, by far, was its head. It was long, curved, almost bullet-shaped. It had no discernible eyes or ears or nose that Sisko could see, but its mouth more than made up for these anatomical deficiencies. The entire front of its head was pulled back in a hideous, satanic grin, its lips revealing rows of dripping, silver teeth.

"Fire!" Sisko yelled, raising his phaser and aiming at the Alien. The creature howled as the red beam of energy took it square in the chest. It stepped back a few paces, shook its head a few timesand then sprung, its deadly body flying through the air like a javelin, completely unaffected by the blast it just took. It let out another scream, its body a twirling mass of limbs and flailing tail, and then it landed on Odo, its claws digging into the soft matter of his body.

"Constable!" Sisko shouted, watching the changeling struggle with the Alien. Odo's hands were wrapped around the creatures' throat, trying to keep its slavering jaws at bay. The Aliens' head dodged left and right, snapping its jaws at Odo's face, its saliva dripping off its lower jaw in threads. Odo reached out and grabbed the creature with his right hand, the fingers on that hand morphing around the creature's head like a vise, trying to force its neck back. The Alien howled in protest, trying to force its jaws open, and then suddenly a second, smaller mouth protruded from between the jaws of the first and shot through the soft matter of Odo's head.

Odo's head melted around the stalk of the second mouth, shifting its mass and reforming right above his left shoulder. The Alien seemed momentarily stunned by this abrupt turn of events, almost as if it were unsure what to do, and then suddenly screamed out in pain as something grabbed it by its shoulder spikes and slammed it against the sidewall of the turbolift.

"Let's go," Worf said, pushing the Constable and Sisko back down the corridor. He turned, watched as the Alien struggled back to its feet, and hit the comm badge pinned to the front of his uniform. "Computer, erect a Level Ten force field at the junction of Corridor B-2 and A-21." A shimmering beam of light sprung up around the entrance to the corridor behind them, just in time to repel the Alien as it slammed headfirst into the barrier.

"That won't hold it for long," Odo said. His head had resumed its normal place on his body, and the three of them back pedaled down the corridor, watching the Alien thrash and wail against the force field.

"So that must be what came out of the Vulcan," Sisko said. He turned and looked at Worf. "Is it possible there are more of them on the station?"

"It is possible," Worf said, nodding his head. "We will need to determine how many if we are to launch a strategic offensive."

Odo snorted. "Good luck. Did you see that thing? A phaser beam didn't even slow it down."

"Computer," Sisko said, activating his comm badge. "Access the file Bashir One. Download it into the transporter buffer, and lock onto the signature on the reactor level."

"_Unable to comply. Magnetic interference from reactor core preventing transporter lock."_

Sisko grunted. If they couldn't beam this thing off the station, they'd have to find some other way to eliminate it. And that made their job twice as hard.

"We need to get back to Ops," Odo said. He turned and the others followed. "I'll have my men search the station-"

A screech echoed from the left side of the corridor, followed by the explosion of one of the wall panels. Odo turned just in time to see another one of those hideous Aliens come flying out of the newly formed hole in the corridor wall and then it was on him, its tail lashing, giant jaws snapping at Odo' face.

"Constable!" Worf shouted. He didn't think about what he was going to do next; he just acted. He sprung forward, drawing his mekleth out from its place in the back of his uniform, and with one clean stroke, brought it cleanly through the middle of the creatures' head.

A bout of grayish-green blood burst forth from the severed stump. Some of it landed on Worf's mekleth, warping the once polished Klingon blade into a mass of melted steel; the rest of it sprayed in a widespread mosaic against the wall of the corridor. And Odo.

The shape shifter screamed, his face and shoulders already becoming a bubbling mass of matter. Odo raised his hands to his face, but not before Sisko saw it morph, changing from one random shape to another. Almost as if his metamorphosis was out of control.

"Odo!" Sisko said, racing over to the changeling. He reached over and grabbed Worf by the shoulder. "We need to get him to the infirmary, now!" Worf hoisted Odo over his shoulder, and together they raced down the corridor towards the closet turbolift they could find.


End file.
